That Home
by lazysunday30
Summary: '"Ms. McHale, what brings you here so early on this fine Thursday morning?" He walked toward the elevator, and saw a soaking wet Mackenzie McHale standing in his entryway.' Will and Mackenzie find their way back.
1. Chapter 1

_I was going to wait to start posting this story until I had more chapters finished, but I just couldn't. I realize that it's another short one - but the next chapter is much longer, don't you worry. Anyway, this one's more of a prelude anyway._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**Prelude**

Jenny had been working at News Night for a week and two days when she first saw it.

She'd had her suspicions after she'd read the article that maybe Will McAvoy wasn't who she'd first thought when he'd ranted at her a year ago. Those suspicions had been confirmed when he'd barged into her interview.

But it was a week and two days into her internship when she saw the reason behind the man, when she saw what she suspected to be the reason why he returned after his overdose. Tess and Tamara had filled her in on the morning of her second day – Will almost didn't come back; those were the rumors, at least.

Jenny had sort of taken on the role of Mac's assistant. God knows the woman needed one. In this capacity, Jenny had been privy to sheepish smiles shared between her two bosses, sideways glances when they thought no one was looking. Jenny especially liked the commercial breaks during broadcast. She'd sit in the back of the control room, listening to Will and Mac's casual banter, and wonder what it would be like to know someone so instinctually.

Of course she knew about their past – everyone did. Tess and Kendra had filled her in on the email debacle. And so for a week and two days Jenny thought what everyone thought – except for maybe Sloan, who understood more than people thought – that Mac and Will were good friends, nothing more.

She was standing near the assignment desk, trying to learn what that specific job entailed (turns out it wasn't that hard), when she looked up and saw Will heading to his office. What had made her look up, however, was Mac's voice, calling over the newsroom to him, asking him for some help on some matter or other. He stopped, looked around, and locked eyes with her – and something in his face changed.

Jenny had been working at News Night for a week and two days when she first saw the unconditional and unequivocal love Will McAvoy held for Mackenzie McHale in just one look. And everything fell into place for Jenny – the jokes that only they understood, the shared smiles over takeout, how they would isolate themselves in a corner of Hang Chew's for hours. What she'd assumed was a close friendship borne out of mutual respect and a shared history, was a man who loved a woman without reserve. All it took was one look over to Mac to see the same expression painted on her face.

One week and four days after Jenny started working at News Night she managed to broach the subject with Sloan, who was (Jenny hated to say it) obviously Mac's only female friend.

"So Sloan, I was wondering… I know it's none of my business, but…"

"You want to know if Mac and Will are together." Jenny was stunned. Whoever said Sloan Sabbith wasn't perceptive was off by miles. Tactless, yes. But not obtuse.

Jenny nodded her head. Sloan took a deep breath, "No. They're not," and then mumbled under her breath, "God knows they should be."

From the way they acted Jenny might have thought Sloan was lying to her but for the well-known fact that Sloan valued the truth. That, and she was a horrible liar. She'd only worked at News Night for a week and four days but already Jenny knew that. So she took Sloan's words at face value and concluded that Will and Mac were not, in fact, together.

Although she agreed with Sloan – they really should be.


	2. Chapter 2

She was sitting in her office, contemplating life. It was something she never used to do, but now it seemed inevitable. When she'd been in the Middle East she hadn't had time to ponder things – she'd been too busy finding danger to report and getting stabbed. But now, a little over a year after she's back stateside, a little over a year after she started (once again) at ACN, Mac sits in her office wondering what the hell is going on in her life.

Mostly, she's wondering what that damn voicemail Will had left her said. Clearly her not hearing it had given him the strength of Don Quixote, which left her wondering – what the _hell_ had the message said?

She'd stopped bothering him about it after that night, after the American Taliban broadcast, knowing that she'd never get an answer out of him if she pushed. She'd probably never get an answer out of him anyway, but her chances of success lowered from five to zero percent the harder she pushed him. It was now a month later and still no mention of either it from either one of them. It had almost turned into a battle of stubbornness – who would break first? Although, she conceded, it wasn't really about breaking the other anymore. The voicemail didn't hang between them – it lived in the shadows, undisturbed, while they quietly existed in another world by themselves. That's what it felt like sometimes – like they existed in another world separately, together.

But that wasn't the most perplexing thing her brilliant mind was mulling over at the moment. She and Will had become close recently. Close in the way that they once were. They weren't intimate, but it was like their minds were in sync with each other again, they knew what the other was thinking before a word was said. They had eye-conversations. That's what Sloan called them at least - when their eyes would meet and they would instantly know they were on the same page. Sometimes his baby-blues and her chocolate orbs would be waging war with each other. Sometimes it was a friendly, almost shy, conversation. _How are you today? - I've been better. How did you sleep? – I didn't._

It was in these moments that Mac knew she still loved him. Of course, she'd never fallen out of love with him, but there had been times when she'd tried to forget what they'd had, when she'd tried to move on. Clearly she had been unsuccessful.

And it didn't hit her like a ton of bricks – not like the first time. Because when she'd seen him again for the first time a year ago she'd known instantly that no man would ever live up to this fucked up one giving her the cold shoulder, this man that she desperately loved.

But recently she'd been cherishing the small moments they had together. A shared smile, an inside joke, an eye-conversation. It was the infinitesimal moments shared between them, when she'd think to herself, _I love you._ Mac thought back to dinner a week ago.

_It was almost ten pm and she was sitting at her desk shuffling through the endless amounts of paperwork required by the network. When she'd been in the Middle East things hadn't been this… organized. Bureaucratic. _

_A knock startled her from some boring memo or other, and she saw Will standing in her doorway. _

"_You didn't wait for me to say, 'come in,'" she teased. She hoped he never would, either. _

_He grinned at her, sheepishly. "Yeah, well, you know me – bad at following rules."_

"_Except for when ratings are down," she countered. He gave in with a little shrug, not wanting to get into it now. All he wanted to do now was get out of this office. And he hoped she'd come with him._

"_Wanna grab something? I know for a fact you haven't eaten since breakfast."_

"_Keeping tabs on me, are we?" and it almost sounded like she was flirting, as she crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair. _Geez,_ she thought,_ where did that come from? How long has it been since I've _flirted_ with Will? Or with _anybody?_

"_Just making sure you don't wither away. I'd hate to have to break in a new EP," he said, walking farther into her office. "So what do you say?"_

"_Hmm…" she pretended to think it over. "Take out?" He nodded. "I get to pick?" she asked, pointing to herself. He rolled his eyes, but nodded with a small smile on his face. "Alright McAvoy. I'm in," and with that she got up out of her chair, grabbed her things and they were on their way. _

_Forty minutes later they were standing in his kitchen divvying up the contents of the take-out boxes. She'd chosen Chinese, as he knew she would. _

"_Feel like a movie?" he asked while dumping half the carton of low-mein onto his plate and the rest onto hers. _

"_Do I get to pick?"_

_He rolled his eyes, "When have you ever _not_ picked?" he said, chuckling. She pulled a face at him but joined in the laughter. "Besides, I already know what you're gonna choose."_

"_You do not!" she exclaimed, looking genuinely surprised. He shrugged, conveying his smugness with a smile. "Fine, then," she walked over to a drawer and pulled out a post-it pad and a pen. She scribbled something down. "What is it?"_

_He didn't even have to think about it, "Notting Hill_._" She looked at him stunned, unable to believe he'd actually guessed correctly. Although, she supposed it wasn't really a guess – he really had just known. _

"_Am I that predictable?" Will thought she looked almost crest-fallen at the notion, and gave her a smile._

"_Nah – I just know you too well," he supplied. But with those words a thousand memories flooded back into his mind - hers too he expected – and he gave her a sad smile that she returned. _

"_Come on old man," she said after a moment, breaking eye contact and heading for the living room, "I want to watch Julia and Hugh fall in love."_

"_Again." Will said, following her, "It's not like you haven't seen this movie a hundred and fifty seven times already."_

"_Yeah but it's my favorite."_

"_Only because you like the idea of a Brit and an American falling in love," and as soon as he said it he wished he could take it back. Why did he have to make everything awkward? Why did everything have to remind him of their past?_

_Mackenzie, however, recovered quickly. "No – I just like Hugh Grant's ass," she said with a smirk. And then much quieter, "And you know I _am_ American."_

"_I know," it almost came out as a whisper. _

_It had been almost two-thirty in the morning by the time the movie ended. Mackenzie had fallen asleep twenty minutes ago, but he didn't want to wake her. He liked the weight of her head on his shoulder. _

_She woke up the next morning – a Saturday – in his bed, the bed they used to share, and concluded that he must have moved her at some point, but that he had slept out on the sofa. _

_She smelled waffles cooking. Her favorite. He remembered. He always remembered. _

Mac was brought out of her memory by the ping of her Blackberry. It was an email from Leona Lansing. This couldn't be good.

* * *

_TBC_

_And I'd love a review, if you'd be so inclined..._


	3. Chapter 3

Leona Lansing was a damn smart woman. She was ruthless – it's how she'd gotten to where she was now. And lately she'd been in it for the wrong reasons. And Charlie Skinner had to be the one to make her realize it. _Charlie Skinner_. The man wore bow ties for Christ's sake.

But he'd been right, much as Leona hated to admit it. The news was far too sensitive to ratings these days, to staying "relevant," whatever the hell that meant.

After the American Taliban broadcast, she made the decision to stop butting into their show. To Charlie's show, to Will's show, to Mac's show. Because most of the time, they did it the right way. The way it was supposed to be done. And she hadn't seen that in far too long. Of course, the blackmailing of her son helped.

Her secretary, a young, timid little thing named Indigo (when she'd started hiring people who's parents clearly didn't care for their child's future she didn't know or want to think about), buzzed her to let her know that her expected visitor had arrived.

Leona looked up from her computer screen. "Ms. McHale, what a surprise."

Mackenzie gave her an are-you-shitting-me look. "_You _emailed _me_, Leona. A very cryptic email, I might add."

"Yes… sit down, won't you?" Leona said, standing herself. "Can I get you anything? A cup of tea, perhaps?"

"You can tell me why I'm here," Mackenzie replied, sitting. Leona followed suit.

"Do you know what was in the envelope, Ms. McHale?"

"What envelope?"

"The envelope that Charlie claimed held records of phone hacking ordered by Reese. Do you know what was in that envelope?"

Mackenzie looked puzzled. She'd thought that she'd been called up to be yelled at. That they'd done something so out of line that Leona Lansing herself was going to dole out the punishment. "No. I don't. Why?" Leona lifted up a piece of paper from her desk and handed it over to Mackenzie. "This is a recipe for beef stew," Mac said, wondering what the fuck was going on.

"Yes."

"This… this is what was in the envelope?"

"You mean to tell me you weren't part of that little scheme Charlie and Will pulled off?"

Mac just sat there, not sure how to answer but feeling like she might be under attack. "It doesn't change the facts, Leona – Reese _did_ hack into people's phones. _Illegally,_ I might add." Mackenzie didn't say anything, instead she placed the paper on the edge of Leona's desk.

Leona still didn't say anything, and Mackenzie had never been a fan of awkward silences, although god knew she'd had her fair share. "He admitted it! On tape! We have your son _on tape_ admitting to phone hacking! Don't tell me I'm here so that you can persuade me this was all a mistake?"

Leona laughed at this, tilting her head back slightly. "No, no, of course not."

"So then…" Mackenzie looked perplexed once again, "why _am _I here?"

Leona took a breath, paused. Two months ago she probably wouldn't have done this. Two months ago all she was concerned about were rating and who'd she'd have to do business with in Washington. Two months ago she would have gone to the likes of Nina Howard. That's what Reese had done, after all. Like mother, like son. But now was not two months ago, or even one month ago.

"I have the voicemail."

Mac stopped. She stopped breathing. She stopped moving. She stopped thinking. For just a fraction of a second. Then her mind was going a hundred miles an hour, and there were too many questions. The one at the forefront of her mind was _will I get to listen to it?_

"Oh?"

"Well, you know, after our little discussion I thought I'd better check up on what Reese had been working on, as all good mothers do."

"And bosses."

"Yes. And bosses."

"So then, you've listened to all the hackings?"

"I have."

"And you're telling _me_ this."

"I am."

"Why?"

"Because I'm going soft."

Mac gave her a quizzical look, "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"You should have heard it," Leona sighed. When had she become a fucking romantic? "He left it for you, you should have heard it."

Mac slowly nodded her head, "You're going soft…"

Leona tilted her head forward in affirmation.

There was a pregnant silence in the room. Mac didn't know what to say. Was Leona going to give her a copy so she could listen for herself? Or did she just get called up here so that Leona could inform her that she should have heard a voicemail because it had been left on her machine and that's all thanks so much for coming up twenty floors? Was this all some –

"I think you still love him."

Mac sat up a little straighter, "Excuse me?"

"Oh come on – let's not do the "we're just friends" dance. I'm too old to hear that shit," Leona sighed, twisting her watch around her wrist. "I think you're in love with him – still, or again – I don't really give a shit. But you are."

Mac didn't say anything.

Leona smiled. "You should hear the message." And in that moment Leona Lansing found herself becoming Charlie Skinner, the meddlesome son-of-a-bitch.

* * *

Will sighed, picking up his phone to call Lonny. The day was over. Time to go back to that place he inhabited. The place he had inhabited with Mackenzie.

_Fuck._ He couldn't get her out of his head. She consumed his thoughts and it was goddamn annoying. _Get out, get out, get out._ Will wondered what would happen if he banged his head against the window enough times. Would the image of Mackenzie's face vanish from his brain? Did he want it to?

That was really the big question. Did he really _want_ to stop thinking about her? He'd been going to Habib regularly. Okay – semi-regularly, but the point remained that he was trying, really _trying_ to get himself to forgive her.

If he were completely honest with himself (which he almost never was), he'd been trying to forgive her since a week after she'd confessed four years ago. Because life for Will without Mackenzie was like… something bad.

One hundred thousand dollars in therapy and that's what he'd been able to come up with so far. . . _something bad._

After he'd gotten out of the hospital for his overdose he'd compared her to his oxygen mask (it had seemed appropriate somehow). Itchy and annoying and so very vital. She was literally his oxygen – his lifeline. That realization, combined with the knowledge that she didn't not love him, she had just never gotten the voicemail, made Will try extra hard to try to forgive her.

Habib thought it was admirable. He thought it was admirable and that it wouldn't do Will jack-shit. He'd told Will as much – that the forgiving wouldn't come because he'd tried really hard, closed his eyes and made a wish. It would come when all the trying stopped. It would be a moment of clarity.

Will thought that was a load of crap and plowed ahead with his "recovery."

And then Will found himself thinking of Mackenzie on a swing.

_Mac squealed, spinning faster and faster, the chain unwinding. Will was right next to her doing the same thing. _

"_This is outrageous! We're adults in a children's park, we shouldn't be…" Mac trailed off, not quite how to define what they were doing._

"_Having fun at a playground on a Friday night?"_

"_Well it is almost ten," Mac smirked, "Ideal pedophile time, wouldn't you say?" Will burst out laughing, grabbing her by the waist and dragging her onto his lap. She rested her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him. _

_They'd been going out for five months now. Four and a half months ago Will knew he'd found the woman he was going to spend the rest of his life with. _

_She shifted, locking onto his eyes. "I love you, you know."_

_Will smiled. She hadn't said it very much, or at all really. But he'd known. Three months ago he'd known. He wasn't sure if she'd realized it then, but he'd seen it in the way that only he could see her._

"_I know," he replied softly. And then teasingly, "I'm still not sure about you, though."_

"_Oh?" she was grinning. _

"_Yeah," he sighed, "I'd say my feelings are lukewarm at best."_

Will chuckled to himself, remembering that she'd spent the rest of the evening trying to goad an "I love you" out of him, even though he'd professed his love for her on many an occasion beforehand.

And then it hit will in just the way Habib had said it would. _My feelings are lukewarm at best._

His feelings weren't lukewarm at best. They were fucking – he just – he… loved her. He loved her in a simple, undemanding way. Loving her was like being on a swing. Freeing. And he really needed to fucking jump off it and find her, because the seat next to him was empty.

* * *

Mackenzie was determined not to let the tears that were pooling in the corners of her eyes fall. Not in front of her boss's boss. Not in front of Leona Lansing.

"Shit," she managed to choke out after a minute.

Leona had leaned back in her chair, and was now playing with her glasses. "Yeah."

* * *

_TBC_

_So hopefully you all are satisfied with the length of this one. Oh yeah, and the content. :)_

_Reviews are lovely and amazing._


	4. Chapter 4

"I'm your best friend, Kenzie, I demand to know what's going on."

"You _demand_ to know?"

"Well… yeah."

Sloan and Mackenzie were sitting at a table in a quiet corner of Hang Chew's – Sloan was only on her second drink but Mac had to be on at least her fourth. She figured her best bet at finding out what was going on was through Semi-Drunk Mackenzie.

Mackenzie put her drink down on the table and started waving her arms about. "I already told you Sloan, _nothing is going on._"

"Stop fucking with me." Sloan had had enough of her bullshit.

"You're not very tactful, you know," said Mackenzie, slurring her words slightly. She should probably slow down before she made a fool of herself. "And hey! What about you!"

"What about me?" Sloan rolled her eyes. How had this become about her - again?

"You and – you and Don!"

Sloan grabbed one of the arms Mackenzie was waving around, "Would you keep it down! How do you even know about that?"

"I'm perceptive," Mac replied, a stupid grin on her face.

"Yeah well I may be tactless, but I know there's something going on with you and Will."

"There's always something going on with me and Will," Mackenzie reached for her drink again, waving her other hand around as if swatting flies.

"There's something _more_ going on with you and Will," _Jesus, _though Mac,_ this woman is relentless._

"There's nothing more going on with me and Will. Nothing."

Sloan stilled for a moment, then her eyes got wide, and she got a giddy smile on her face – because she'd figured out something _personal_ about someone that _wasn't herself._ "And that's the problem, isn't it?" she was grinning now. "You _want_ there to be something going on between you and Will and there _isn't!"_

"Congratulations, Sloan, you've entered the world of social norms," she paused and took another sip, "Where things are shit."

"Why are things shit?" She'd come a long way in terms of knowing what was wrong with people without them saying anything, but this was a little out of her depth.

"Sloan," Mackenzie sighed, "I'm not the kind of drunk where I want to talk about my feelings. I'm the drunk where I want to get wasted and watch movies and cry and despair over my fucked up life."

"There's a difference?" Mac gave her a pointed look. Sloan quickly tried to recover, "Well, we could go back to your place and watch a movie – I could do that. Be that type of friend," she paused, not sure what to say, not sure if what she was saying was helping at all. "Umm… we'll watch _Notting Hill!_ It's your favorite, right? I'm pretty sure you said it was your favorite movie that one time at that –"

"Yes," Mac whispered as tears started rolling down her cheeks, "It's my favorite."

* * *

_Three Days Earlier_

Jack Habib was a busy man. He was a busy man because not only did he have his own patients to see, but he had his father's as well. Jack Habib had been busy for two years.

He'd been especially busy lately because Will McAvoy had decided to start showing up for his appointments. Jack had cherished those Wednesday mornings. It was his time to catch up on his work – update his files and whatnot. Now those Wednesday mornings were filled with tales of Will's fucked up love life. Not that he was complaining – the man basically donated 100,000 dollars to his practice, and honestly, he enjoyed talking with Will. And Will's problems, though Will thought them complex and fraught with disaster, were actually fairly straightforward.

Sometimes Jack forgot he'd never met Mackenzie McHale. Because that's mostly what Will talked about. Mac. His past relationship with Mac. His current relationship with Mac. His non-feelings (that were actually very real feelings) about Mac. Jack wasn't kidding when he'd said he had needed to get a new filing cabinet.

It was 10:20 AM on a Wednesday morning and Will hadn't shown up for his appointment. He'd called approximately five minutes earlier to explain that he wouldn't be able to make it in and that his hour could be used for someone else who's "head was fucked up." Will's words. Nevertheless, it was too late for Jack to schedule someone new for that hour, so he'd planned on spending it catching up on work, when he saw the red light come on.

He opened up the door, surprised to see a woman standing on the other side. A woman who was not one of his patients. A very flustered-looking woman.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes," she huffed, clearly anxious. She started speaking very quickly, "I know that this probably breaks doctor-patient confidentiality, but I was hoping that we'd be able to work around it somehow, because you see, I can't seem to stop hurting Will, and so I was just hoping that you'd be able to help me out with what –"

Jack smiled, "You're Mackenzie."

She stopped, clearly embarrassed that she'd forgotten to introduce herself. "Yes," she smiled back, pretending to smack herself on the forehead. "I am."

"Why don't you come in," offered Jack, holding the door open for her.

"Oh, alright, yes, thank you," she wandered in, and sat down in Jack's chair. Jack was starting to see what Will was talking about. He took the patient's chair.

"I knew Will wasn't coming in this morning, and I figured he probably didn't call to cancel until it was too late to book someone else, so –"

"Mackenzie."

She looked up, as if she was surprised to see someone else there. "Yes. Sorry."

"It's alright. Why don't you start from the beginning. And slow down," Hell – Will was paying for this session anyway.

"Right. Yes. Well it started yesterday – did Will ever tell you about the voicemail?" Jack nodded. "Right, well he wouldn't tell me what it said, and as you know I never got it. I pestered him for about a day, but well…"

"You knew he wouldn't respond to that," supplied Jack.

Mac smiled, "Yes. But yesterday, Leona – the man who hacked my phone's mother and also the owner AWM – called me up to her office," Mackenzie gulped, looking almost terrified to continue.

"You heard the message," guessed Jack. She looked like she was about to cry, so Jack took that as a 'yes.' "And you want to know if what he said still stands."

Mackenzie let out a sharp laugh and a sniffle, "You're really good at this."

There was a pause, where Mac tried to figure out how to say what she really wanted to say.

"Just say it."

_Shit. He _is_ really good at this._ "There's a ring."

"Yes."

"I saw the receipt in his trash. After he showed it to me, I mean. I came to his office looking for him, and I saw it – it was ripped in half but," she stopped and looked down at her hands. "he got it because he knew I'd find out about the offer, and he wanted to make me feel even worse."

_Jesus Christ. Will had said he was going to return the ring. Even then he'd known that ring was for her. He hadn't sent his aide down to Tiffany – he'd gone himself. _Jack was having an internal field day with this.

"Probably, yeah. But Mackenzie – that was before the voicemail, which is really why you're here."

She looked straight at him. "I just want to know if Will has said anything that might indicate that he still has feelings for me – you don't have to say anything… just… if he has, maybe nod your head?"

"Will has said a lot of things about you, Mackenzie. My advice for you is this – talk to him about the ring. He ripped up the receipt for a reason. Talk to him about it."

"_That's_ your advice? _Talk to him about it?_"

"It is my professional opinion that you two don't talk – _really talk -_ to each other nearly enough. Have a conversation with him. One where you two try not to scream at each other."

"You've been almost no help."

Jack smiled. That's what they all said.

* * *

_TBC... _

_God I can't wait until season two. Reviews are lovely and make the world go round :)_


	5. Chapter 5

"_Will has said a lot of things about you, Mackenzie. My advice for you is this – talk to him about the ring. He ripped up the receipt for a reason. Talk to him about it."_

"_That's your advice? Talk to him about it?"_

"_It is my professional opinion that you two don't talk – really talk - to each other nearly enough. Have a conversation with him. One where you say what you're feeling, instead of trying to guess at what he's feeling."_

"_You've been almost no help."_

_Jack smiled. That's what they all said. _

* * *

_Four Days Later…_

Will hated Wednesdays. When he was a child he couldn't comprehend the idea of the _d_ in the word. Now he couldn't comprehend the idea of it at all. Hump Day. That's what people called it, right? If you could get past Wednesday, the rest of the week was a piece of cake. But first you had to get _through_ Wednesday. Will hated Wednesday.

So it was on a Wednesday night at 1 AM that Will found himself half asleep on his sofa with a glass of scotch in his hand, watching one of those old black and white movies – he couldn't remember which one, they all managed to make him fall asleep anyway.

Nothing was missing. Nothing… except for her. She was always missing, it seemed. She'd been missing for four years. He should probably talk to her about everything soon.

Yeah, he'd been hurt and pissed when she hadn't even hinted at the voicemail. Obviously he had told her not to say anything about anything if she didn't feel the same way, but seriously? He thought she would have made a small effort to make sure he was doing alright after she'd non-verbally non-anything rejected him. And obviously bringing Bryan in had been in retaliation.

God he could be a real prick sometimes. He should probably talk to her about everything soon. Soon. Maybe on Friday, after work. Or maybe Saturday – give her night off? Should he wait until next week?

Why was he hesitating? Why couldn't he just…

And then, uninvited as it was, he heard Habib's voice in the back of his head. _You're afraid she'll reject you again._

Well, shit. What if she did? What if she didn't want this? What if the flirting lately had just been her being nice?

In his mind's eye he saw Habib smile and shake his head slightly.

His ears, however, heard the elevator doors open right into his apartment, and he knew exactly who it was. He couldn't decide if he regretted giving her the elevator pass code to his apartment or not. _Too late now_, he thought.

He pushed himself up off the sofa and set his drink down, "Ms. McHale, what brings you here so early on this fine Thursday morning?" Thursdays he liked. He walked toward the elevator, and saw a soaking wet Mackenzie McHale standing in his entryway. "Mac?"

"I'm wet."

"Well, yeah. Did you walk here?"

She nodded. "I need to speak with you about something."

"Oh, got it," he said as if it all made perfect sense, "I was wondering why you'd walk all the way here in the rain, but obviously the phone lines are down because – oh wait. They're not." He gave her a pointed look.

"It's important." He got the distinct feeling that this was more than important.

Will walked towards her, guiding her through the apartment to his bedroom. "Stay," he said, rummaging around in his drawers. He pulled out an old sweatshirt and a pair of leggings she'd left that he'd never gotten rid of.

She looked at the leggings suspiciously. "These are mine?"

He shrugged and walked out, not sure anything he said would sound the way he wanted it to.

* * *

He was making her tea when she walked into the kitchen, looking small and adorable and so incredibly sexy at the same time. _How does she do it?_ he thought. _Surely one can't look cute and sexy at the same time?_ But the evidence was standing right in front of him wringing her hands together in apparent nervousness.

Will was about to make some quip or other when – "I know about the ring."

Will was… confused to say the least. "I know you know about the ring, Mac. I _showed_ you the ring."

She was shaking her head now, looking at her toes. "No I mean…" she trailed off. What was she doing?

"You mean _what_?" Shit. He'd been found out.

"I _mean,_ I saw the receipt in the bin. I know you didn't get it for me all those years ago," she looked up, almost scared.

Will sighed and hung his head.

"Well aren't you going to say anything?!" she demanded. She always demanded, except for when she didn't. It was one of the things he loved about her. When he didn't say anything she went on, "I went and saw Doctor Habib, and he –"

"Wait. What?! You went and saw –" he was stalking towards her now – "You went and saw my shrink?! Jesus Mac! Why didn't you just pull my medical records and upload them to the internet!"

"He didn't break confidentiality, Will! He'd never do that! You know that…"

He huffed in response. Yeah he did fucking know that. "So then… what exactly did the two of you talk about?"

"He said… Well, you see he said…" god this was frustrating.

"What, Mac? What did he say?" Will was getting impatient.

"Okay," she said clearly, standing up straight and looking him straight in the eye. "Okay. I'm going to say something, and you will not interrupt me."

"I won't?"

"No. You will stay silent until I am finished, then you may say your piece." Will let out a loud sigh but let her continue. "I've apologized more times than I can count,"

"Mac –"

"No! Shut up – you promised," she glared at him; he rolled his eyes but signaled for her to continue. "Cheating with Bryan hurt me just as much as it did you. I know that may be hard for you to see, seeing as I was the one to really fuck things up, but it's true. I hurt you, Will, and that hurt me. But I also hurt myself, because cheating on you took you from me. I meant it when I said that I was in love with you – that I really, truly realized it after I'd made that god-awful mistake. I don't know if you've ever believed that, but you should," she paused for a moment, gathering herself. Mac walked over to the kitchen island and leant against it, wringing her hands together again. "I've said sorry, but I won't anymore. Because I've spent the last four years feeling sorry for me and you and I can't do it anymore. I'm off the hook, Will. I forgive myself," she sad with a sad smile. "I don't expect you to forgive me just like that – you know me better – but I just wanted you to know that I've forgiven myself," she looked up through her eyelashes, "So, yeah."

He stood there, not really sure what to do with his hands or his arms or his body. "I thought you came here because of the ring?"

"Oh, yes! Yes!" how had she almost forgotten about that? She started waving her arms around in the way she did when she was angry or excited or a little bit of both. "I came here to tell you, Billy, that I've forgiven myself. The past is behind us! I declare it so!"

"You declare it so?" Will asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Still not finished!"

"By all means, continue."

"The past is behind us, and so you will stop making me feel like shit even if you haven't forgiven me," she said with a huff and a pointed finger.

"Because you've forgiven you?" he was mocking her a little now, and she knew it.

"Yeah," she got silent, and the air turned somber. "I may have forgiven myself, but that doesn't mean it doesn't still hurt. So don't ever pull a stunt like that again."

"I assume we're back to the ring?"

"You knew how that would crush me," he looked guilty, "You know it's especially crushing now that I know that you probably just sent someone down to pick up any old ring so you could jerk me around, and now you're gonna keep it? For what?! For some other woman?!" she raised her voice, "You didn't even pick it out yourself! And you think it'll work for –"

"For you." Mac almost didn't hear him.

"What?" she stared at him with her big eyes, confusion stamped into the wrinkles between her pinched eyebrows.

"I got it for you," he moved closer to her, pushing into her personal space just enough. "I put on my baseball cap and sunglasses and I went down to Tiffany and I picked out the ring myself. I picked out the one I thought you might like." She couldn't tear her eyes from his. "The talk show deal was never real – I didn't lie about that."

"But you wanted to make me feel bad…" he nodded.

"So then…" she paused, not sure whether to bring this up, but, like Will, had Habib's voice in the back of her head telling her they really needed to hash their shit out. "Did you ever have any intention of marrying me?"

At this Will gave her a small smile and a half-laugh, "Of course, Mackenzie."

"Why didn't you already have a ring?" she asked, enunciating each syllable in the way Will loved.

He shrugged, "There was no rush. It was you and me. A ring wasn't gonna change that. Yeah, I would have proposed at some point, but I'd already planned on spending the rest of my life with you, so…" he sighed.

The beginnings of tears were making their way to the corners of her eyes. "So… I really did fuck everything up."

Will shook his head, "You're missing the point, Kenz."

"Oh?" she said, voice thick with tears, "and what's that?"

"I kept the goddamn ring."

She looked up quickly. "You tore up the receipt." He nodded and started making his way to the bedroom. "Will?" she called, following behind. He was rummaging through his drawers, "What are you…?" then he pulled out the box. The box she knew contained the ring. "…doing?"

* * *

_Don't get too excited. Or do. But I betcha you don't know what's gonna happen next. I hardly know what's gonna happen next..._

_I may or may not be without internet for the next week and a half, so updates will most likely be few and far between. But never fear, I shan't abandon my post - Will and Mac will be together, and this story will come to an end. How? No idea. But it will, eventually. (I declare it) :)_

_Review Review Review Review Pretty Please With A Cherry On Top_


	6. Chapter 6

It was a blur of skin. Of hands and arms and legs and feet and him. His lips, his chest, his five o'clock shadow. The way he moaned her name, the way she screamed his. His feather-light touches followed by a rough tug. It was exhilarating and made her heart swell with a happiness she hadn't felt in a long time. It was hope. And familiarity. They were still them, but _more._ They'd grown (kind of) and experienced things since they'd last been together and it somehow made it all the more meaningful. Because this time she wasn't going to try and sabotage what they had. This time she wasn't afraid of what could be, only immensely intoxicated by it.

_She looked up quickly. "You tore up the receipt." He nodded and started making his way to the bedroom. "Will?" she called, following behind. He was rummaging through his drawers, "What are you…?" then he pulled out the box. The box she knew contained the ring. "…doing?"_

_He stood up to his full height and placed the ring on a table near the window, making his way over to her. "Will?" she sounded hesitant. _

"_Yes?" he said, a small smile on his face. The kind of smile he wore when he knew the outcome before anything had even started playing out. That smiled bugged the hell out of Mac. _

"_Are you… You're not… proposing to me? Are you?" Mac was slightly embarrassed to ask the question, but knew that she couldn't let it go. He was standing in front of her with a ring for crying out loud. _

_He gave a small shrug, "Eventually," and kissed her, one of his hands finding its way into her hair while the other went to her waist. _

As Mackenzie woke she remembered the night before. Wonderful; full of passion. They'd never had a problem in that area, after all.

She stretched, her hands making little fists as her arms reached above her head, the sheet falling away from her. Mac let out a contented sigh and a little giggle. God how she'd missed this.

"Hey, there." Will was leaning against the doorframe, a mug of coffee in each hand.

"Morning," she smiled, making no move to cover herself. He'd seen all there was to see.

He handed her a mug and sat down on the bed next to her. They rested there in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, something they'd always used to do on Sunday mornings. "You know what we should do?" He didn't expect an answer, so he went ahead, "Dinner." He looked over at her, waiting for a response.

Mac pretended to think about it before replying. "Alright, dinner. But only if we can do lunch as well," she said, faking a stern tone of voice. As if they were negotiating a business transaction.

Will decided to play along and nodded slowly, picking out his words carefully. "I'll agree to lunch, but you have to throw in breakfast as well."

"Of course, that'd only be fair."

"I'm glad we're on the same page with this."

"Well we _are_ on the same page for just about everything else."

"We're on the same page for just about _nothing_ else, Mackenzie," he said with a chuckle.

"For the things that matter."

He inclined his head, agreeing. "For the things that matter."

After a few more minutes of companionable silence, during which Mac had placed her head on Will's shoulder, her stomach grumbled loudly.

"I believe I was promised breakfast, so are you going to feed me or what, Billy?"

* * *

"So, does our deal for breakfast, lunch and dinner extend over today as well?" They were back in his bead, where both assumed they'd end up last night.

"Hmm… I'll have to talk with my people," Will replied, bringing back the banter from yesterday. They were lying facing each other, Mac's back against the headboard and Will leaning against the footboard. He was playing with her toes, which he found he rather liked to do, while she squirmed a little.

"Of course, of course – take your time. Wouldn't want to rush you on this," she giggled a little, flicking her bangs out of her eyes. Will let out a soft chuckle and leaned forward so his arms were straddling her knees, his elbows on either side as his hands intertwined themselves on top of her legs. He let his chin rest on one of her thighs, just above where his hands were placed and let out a deep sigh.

Everything seeped away from him. All the stress, the politics of the company and that stupid death threat, it all melted from his shoulders. They weren't Mackenzie McHale, executive producer and Will McAvoy, anchor, anymore. In this moment they were just Mac and Will. He was lying there, his chin pressed into her thigh while she ran her fingers through his hair, and he suddenly saw everything so clearly.

He let go of the past. What was the point in holding it all in? What was the point in letting one mistake ruin the future he wanted, the one he'd always dreamed of? She was here now, and she wasn't going anywhere, and she loved him. And he didn't want to end up some grouchy old news anchor with nothing to show for his life but old recordings of himself.

He wanted _more_ than that – so much more_._ Kids and grandkids and Mac. He wanted Mac more than anything he had ever wanted in his whole life. He wanted her more than he wanted to hold onto a grudge.

He kissed the thigh his chin was resting on.

"My people say that breakfast, lunch and dinner can be extended over for today as well, but on one condition."

Mackenzie sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, as she sometimes had the habit of doing. "Hmm… and what's that?"

"You'll just have to spend the rest of your life with me." He was still smiling, and Mackenzie wasn't quite sure what he was saying, so she let out a brief, shallow laugh.

"Oh? Is that all?"

The smile fell from his face, and his look took on more meaning. "That's all I want," he mumbled, and then, even quieter, "That's all I've ever wanted."

"Will?" he looked up. "Are you asking to date me?"

He didn't move from his position but didn't say anything for a long time. Mackenzie, instantly, was afraid she'd said something wrong. Had this not been what he'd meant? Was it really a joke that she hadn't picked up on?

Will slowly shook his head almost imperceptibly. "No, Mackenzie, I'm not asking to date you."

_Shit shit shit _"Oh, no, of course not! I didn't mean –"

"I'm asking you to marry me."

She gulped, eyes going wide, but never breaking contact with Will's. "Oh? Is that all?"

He nodded, "Yeah, Mac, that's all."

She sighed loudly, shaking her head. "Well Billy, you know I'll have to take this up with _my_ people now. An offer as big as this one can't be taken lightly."

"'Course. Take your time."

She leaned over, running her fingers through his hair. "Will?" she whispered. "I'd fucking love to marry you, you idiot."

Will looked up and saw the tears making tracks down her face. "Good. That's good." She had the tendency of making him the happiest man in the world most of the time.

* * *

_That is all, friends. That is all. _

_Let me know if you want more MAC&WiLL action in the form of some lovely fanfiction. I know I do._


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